


A Word with the Elf

by TAFKAB



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Banter, Dwarf Culture & Customs, Dwarf/Elf Relationship(s), Elf Culture & Customs, Flirting, Friendship, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-10-11 01:09:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10451625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TAFKAB/pseuds/TAFKAB
Summary: Gimli accuses Legolas of interrupting his flirtation with Éowyn.  (An old story, published many years ago under the pseudonym Bill the Pony)





	

_whisk, whisk, whisk_

Gimli plied the dull gray stone on his axes with an expert hand, testing each of them with his horned thumb until he was content. The dwarf carried his own whetstone, and did not have to wait for the Rohirrim's grinding stone to be finished with by the men and boys who stood grimly in line behind it, waiting to hone their blades. 

There was little talk in the keep, but it was filled with a clamor nonetheless-- rattling armor and the clank of blades nearly deafened him as children were trained in haste to defend life, limb, and family from the Uruk-Hai of Saruman. Looking about, Legolas could only see the face of Boromir beneath each helm-- cheeks sunken, flesh already graying in death. He was surrounded by skeletons and rot and loss. 

"I want a word with you, elf!" Gimli's gruff voice cut through the roar of metal and life's blood rising to dull his ears. 

Legolas blinked, startled from his spiral into gloom. Gimli's eyes glinted from beneath their thick brows; his face was unreadable beneath the hair of his head and beard, but nevertheless Legolas thought he detected concern. 

"About the horse," Gimli pressed on, apparently satisfied he had Legolas' attention. 

"What horse?" He roused himself half-heartedly for banter. 

" _That_ horse." Gimli scowled, jabbing one stubby finger towards him. "Arod. A fine horse, good as my own feet for riding, until..." his voice trailed off, his brows rising to mark the significance of his thought. 

Legolas sighed and roused himself to memory. "The horse was startled. They are high-spirited, and sudden noise or motion may cause them to bolt under an inexperienced rider." 

"Then you do remember!" Gimli slapped his knee and leaned forward. "I thought you would, seeing as how you made the beast gallop and spill me!" 

"I?" Legolas nearly dropped the arrow he held, which would have spoiled the newly-glued fletchings. He believed he knew Gimli's game now, and appreciated the thought that lay behind it; his heart was rising. "I did not give fright to Arod. We understand one another quite well. It was your own boot that spurred the horse." 

"Nay, I will not be gainsaid!" Gimli stood, the motion raising him to Legolas' eye-level. "I did not touch him with my heels. I have learned that much, at least, of horsemanship! And I will not suspect the Lady Éowyn, for her part, of such a thing." His eyes narrowed, and he set down the hand-axe he carried. 

"But Gimli, there is yet a flaw in your reasoning," Legolas smiled faintly and set aside his arrow likewise. "Why should I do such a thing?" 

"Aha!" Gimli laughed so loudly that half the keep rounded on them, wide-eyed at such mirth in the face of despair. Legolas tilted his head, inviting further explanation of his friend. "I know what moved you!" Chortling, he returned to his seat and resumed his sharpening. The moment stretched, and men turned away, no longer diverted by the scene. 

Legolas felt his temper flicker. "If you know, then, I would be grateful for enlightenment. I do not know why I should be moved to shame a friend before a lady!" 

Gimli's shoulders shook with mirth. "Do you not? Then think on it, elf! No doubt you saw her smile, near as radiant as Galadriel herself. She was quite taken by my charm!" 

"Then perhaps it was Aragorn who slapped your horse," Legolas suggested tartly. "For he seems to heed the Lady Éowyn, whether she smile or frown." 

"Ah, but he was too far back for such mischief!" Gimli shook his finger at Legolas. "And you were not!" 

"But I have no eye for the Lady Éowyn," Legolas settled back, anticipating victory. 

"Did I say you had?" Gimli tossed his whetstone, and Legolas caught it by reflex. "Put an edge on your arrows, Elf, or they will skip off the Uruks like stones off water." 

Legolas obeyed, hands moving swiftly as he pondered Gimli's words. "You baffle me, my friend. Speak plainly what you would say." 

"That I will not!" Gimli laughed again. "If you have not the wit to understand me, on your own head be it." But Legolas thought that he was troubled, and that much of the joy had left his voice. He had begun to check his leather armor, patching loose thongs at the joints with bits and scraps of leather that he cut himself with a small but wicked knife. 

"Is it true Dwarf women have beards?" Legolas asked after a time, remembering the words Gimli had spoken to Éowyn before he fell. 

"They do." 

"And you still find them comely?" Legolas stroked his own smooth chin, thoughtful. 

Gimli looked up, fingers falling still, and his eyes bored through Legolas like gimlets. "Aye." 

"And Éowyn?" 

"Aye." 

"And Galadriel." The corner of Legolas' mouth curled upward to see Gimli flush. 

"Aye. And you." Gimli interrupted Legolas harshly. He jerked tight a final knot, jammed his axes into their carrying straps, and shouldered into his armor. 

Legolas sat quiet for a long moment. He watched his hands tend his arrows, and wondered if any who now sat inside the Keep would live the night. 

But Gimli was not finished; his breath blew through his mouth and stirred the hair of his beard. "What of it, Legolas? Do you find dwarves harsh and foolish? When a dwarf stands next to the Lady of Lorien, do you laugh and find him as unlovely as a heron set next to a dove?" He fairly bristled with sudden wrath, and Legolas was glad he held only his tiny knife. 

He met Gimli's eyes, completely sober. "I do not laugh. A dwarf has beauty of his own; he is as he was made." 

Gimli calmed. "That is well, then." He twirled the tip of his beard-braid between his thumb and forefinger. "Perhaps I will forgive you for scaring my horse." He rose and stumped away to the stair, then out into the night, leaving Legolas to fill his quiver and ponder the meanings of their words. 

"Valar, may your grace shine upon his axe," Legolas whispered in his own tongue. He pocketed the whetstone and rose, following Gimli out into the Deep.


End file.
